


Jack Frost

by pissard



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Christmas, Fantasy, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-05
Updated: 2010-05-05
Packaged: 2017-10-09 08:12:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 16,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/84929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pissard/pseuds/pissard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim's never been called Jack Frost before but neither has he been in love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is based of the [1979 TV Special](http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0079357/) of the same name, but only very loosely. It is, as they say where I come from, _shit ass long_. I am very proud of it, though, and wouldn't be if not for the much needed and much appreciated help from the wonderful [](http://mrasaki.livejournal.com/profile)[**mrasaki**](http://mrasaki.livejournal.com/)! Thanks again, bb. Without further ado...

Iowa had a different winter than what he was used to, Leonard thought dryly. He turned toward Joanna, whose face was pressed against the glass of the massive window looking out into the airport. It went doubly so for his ten year old who had never seen an ounce of snow in all her life. Georgia winters in Savannah never had anything like snow unless you counted rain, which you didn't unless you were an idiot.

Snow was something new, and he expected more than Joanna running out into the first fresh patch she could find, then turning around and asking him bluntly, "What's the big deal?"

Leonard was a little shocked to say the least and he trooped over to her through the thick fluffy white snow. "Well, darlin', it's snow," he explained, as if that should be enough. She didn't look convinced. "What more do you need than that?"

"It's cold and wet," she accused the snow beneath their feet, raising a foot to stomp down. Joanna wrinkled her nose and looked back up at her father, as if that were explanation enough.

"Sure it is," he said and crouched down beside her. "But it's more than that, so much more. Snow is magic," he continued, even though he knew she was a little old for this. Her brown eyes went wider anyway, blinking slowly. "A very special man named Jack Frost works hard to make the snow like this," he gestured out to the endless fields around them, all under a blanket of perfect white. "You don't think snow starts this way, do you?"

"No?" she speculated, turning her wide eyes from his face to the horizon and then up into the sky where snowflakes were lazily twirling earthward.

"He makes all this from water, Joanna," he said handing her a handful. "Up in the clouds."

"Seems like a lot of work," Joanna exclaimed, now looking at the snow in her hands more carefully. "Is it like a freezer, papa? Because my science teacher told me that snow is like ice but made differently…" Her eyebrows scrunched together as she tried to recall just what her teacher said.

Unbeknownst to either two, not too far away, a young man watched. His hair was as pure white as the snow all around and his skin was just as pale, barely even tinted with the lightest blue. If Leonard McCoy could see the man, the man looked so far from anything human that he'd as a doctor, immediately assume the man was sick.

The man was anything but. His smile was huge and wide and most certainly proud, as he watched the father and daughter keenly. The snow all around him was indeed his work. Jack Frost was a name he'd heard many times, but he was definitely not the original nymph to earn that name. It was an honor, then, to be considered an equal to Jack Frost, even if it was just by a human.

His work was rarely appreciated, let alone acknowledged by humans. He drifted over to the pair, touching each of their noses and reveling in the bright red that blossomed on their cheeks.

"Ah," Leonard said, hand racing up to his face to grab his nose to keep a sneeze from surging out. Joanna was looking redder and ruddier by the minute, snowflakes getting caught in her bushy curls. "Alright, sweetie," he announced, words a little muzzy. Damn, the cold was making his nose run already. "Let's get to the car."

The man, or in actuality, the nymph, had a name. It wasn't 'Jack Frost' but instead, simply, Jim. Nymphs usually did not get names beyond 'winter nymph' or 'tree nymph' but Jim had figured out one for himself. He considered himself lucky, as far as names went, as some of the winter gypsies had names like 'Spock' or 'Uhura' and even 'Gaila.' Jim's name was completely normal in comparison to those.

As normal as his name was, it didn't matter much if it was normal on "human" standards. For many hundreds of years Jim had lived amongst humans but unseen and unappreciated. Every winter, day by day he would float amongst them, bringing joy through the tickle of his icy fingers along their ribs or awe from the intricate detail in every frozen pane of glass but never was he able to bask in the warmth of their smiles.

Perhaps he would be less lonely if he were not the only nymph in the winter kingdom. He was not the only _nymph_, far from it. There were summer nymphs, night nymphs, forest nymphs and endless others. He'd heard many tales about his fellow creatures but had never actually met one. Father Winter told him it was not his place to know them and that his business was strictly winter-concerns. This didn't stop Jim from seeking out other nymphs but it was difficult. During the warmer seasons Jim was not allowed in the same places he was in the winter. He was confined to the Arctic strictly and some parts of Siberia. The only creatures who were there were the ones he'd known all his life: the winter gypsies.

The winter gypsies were a kind folk and he had good friends amongst them, but they didn't understand him. Their jobs kept them confined in the Winter Kingdom and never did they venture beyond the uppermost of the atmosphere. Some had never even seen the bottom of a cloud! Gypsies were also a very practical sort of people. They did not delight in the same frivolity Jim was often fond of nor possessed any of the same mischief. Jim was one of a kind, something that, though it seemed so exalted, he found to be terribly lonely. Nymphs did not experience much emotion, nor they were supposed to, but Jim felt very strongly how alone he was even through the joy of every new winter.

Without much reason, he followed the father and daughter in the car. Jim was delighted to find the two were moving into a large old house on the outskirts of a Iowan town named Riverside. It was one of his favorite towns in all of the northwest, small and quaint with a river that was too much fun to freeze over. The journey there was long enough that night had fallen hush over the land. Jim had no sense of time like humans did but when the father and Joanna (as he had learned) got out of the car, they looked very tired.

"We're home, Joanna," the father said with a small smile. Joanna returned it slightly but her eyes were trained on the house. Jim frowned, surprised the little girl could dislike the house. He had no sense about these things but he was sure she was very lucky to even _have_ a home. He huffed a gust of wind through her hair and froze glimmering icicles along the porch.

"Jack Frost?" Joanna breathed and looked straight up at him. Jim felt the sudden and irrational hope that she could see him, hovering above. She didn't, though, her gaze beginning to search the sky instead. Such ridiculous fantasies often overtook Jim, making the loneliness that much more pungent. He sighed and moved on from the humans, over across fields that he still hadn't properly iced. Never before, though, did a human's kind words stick with him.

He captured the human's face in every window pane, painted with the icy strokes of his fingers. Beautiful as each portrait was of the man Jim knew it compare nothing to the original. "Jack Frost," he marveled as he wrote the word above the portrait he'd done of himself and the man. Jim paused, frowning, uncertain what to dub the human when inspiration struck and he wrote, in exquisite spiraling letters, 'friend.' Emotion seized him. Yes, that was exactly what he wanted; he wanted to be this human's friend. So desperately did he want this impossible dream that it followed him through every frozen pond and across continents, teased him with every prospect.

When he stood on the icy banks of the Potomac and watched the sun rise over the still waters, the tendrils of a plan began to formulate. The solution, the direct realization of his dream, was a simple one. All he had to do was ask Father Winter to grant him his wish.

&amp;

Flying was exhilarating. He loved to do it and pretend there was wind rushing through his hair and through his clothes and dancing all across his skin. None of this really happened, though, but despite lacking the feeling of flying he still had the sight of it. When he breached the thick gray clouds, a glorious crisp blue sky greeted him. Standing tall and beautiful in its middle was the Winter Kingdom. A glorious white kingdom made of the year's finest clouds, fluffy but sturdy and perfect for the winter gypsy to call home.

He flew towards it, arcing through the hair and landing with in human grace on white cobblestone. Winter gypsies busied themselves about the streets, bustling to get this or that done on time. Jim had only one person in mind to visit, his fleet feet carrying him in the right direction without much thought on his part.

Spock was a winter gypsy that Jim actually considered a very good friend. He was slightly different than the rest of the gypsies, in charge of making the snowflakes for every snowfall. While Spock did not understand Jim, as he repeatedly reminded Jim, he at least listened to what the winter nymph had to say. He was also responsible for keeping Jim out of the worst of trouble.

Spock was sitting, as he usually was, at his desk. In front of his face was an impossibly large magnifying glass, cut from the finest Arctic ice, and in his hands was one delicate snowflake and the glimmering silver scissors specially made for snipping snowflakes. Jim burst in the door and, as per usual, Spock neither jumped nor glanced up.

"Spock!" Jim crowed, enthusiasm abundant. Spock did look up then, only because he had finished the snowflake. He set it in the growing pile next to him and regarded his friend curiously.

"You are looking particularly exuberant today, Jim," he said, bemusement barely lilting the even tone of his voice. Jim grinned all but the wider and took Spock's one spare chair in hand, whipping it around to straddle it backwards. "May I inquire as to why?"

"I was compared to Jack Frost today," Jim confessed, blue eyes growing brighter. Spock shifted in his seat. Jim was a special nymph, designed for different things than Spock or any winter gypsy was. Despite being fully aware of this, Spock still often found himself awed by Jim's presence. Jim often had the effect of the sun, a comparison with an irony not lost on Spock.

"By whom?" Spock asked, a single black angled eyebrow rising. He looked far different than Jim, being a winter gypsy. His hair was stark black but his skin was the same pale blue of Jim's, but richer, even more so than the regular gypsies. "Not Father Winter I would guess."

Jim's expression took a sharp turn, souring into a scowl almost immediately at the mention of Father Winter. "No, not by him," he sighed, fingers dancing along the surface of Spock's desk. "By a human." Jim sighed, almost whimsically. "A beautiful human."

Spock frowned, setting aside the snowflake and scissors carefully. "That is not much of a compliment, no matter as to what the physical attraction of the human may be," he said. "A human is just a human."

"No, but they're so much more," Jim protested and threw his arms into the air. Snowflakes around the room spun around under the influence of his arms and the magic constantly around them. He paid them no mind despite Spock's glare. "Really, you must believe me, Spock. You never see them, never get to hear them or understand them."

"I recall you, just the other day, bemoaning the loneliness they incite in you," Spock said but his tone was softer now, aware that this was something sensitive for Jim.

Jim sighed, slouching over the back of the chair. "It is a paradox I am constantly battling," he admitted dully before that emotion was cast aside and his luminous glow returned, along with his smile. "Yes, but I think I have thought of a solution." Before Spock could ask or, perhaps, even raise his eyebrow higher, Jim barreled on. "I will ask Father Winter for a favor."

"This is one of your worst ideas to date," Spock marveled. He had known Jim for a very, very long time and was sure in his assessment. "Father Winter will never grant you such a thing. Don't even tell him—"

"I already know," came the ever dry, booming tone from the doorway. It echoed all about Spock's home. "I am dumbfounded by it, truly dumbfounded." Jim hurriedly rose from his chair, causing it to tumble over in the process, and whipped around to face his boss. Father Winter did not look pleased, not that he really ever did, but usually when he was around Jim he at least looked more pleasant.

"Try to understand," Jim argued. He jerked his hand out from his chest, expression defiant. "I have experienced feelings I never thought possible before today. I need to know more about this human world, I need to be _human_."

Father Winter's eyebrows drew down sharply over his grey eyes, which raged like the most acrid of blizzards. "Nymph, what you ask of me is more than you realize," he said, crossing his arms. "I see fit to teach you a lesson."

Jim's expression crumbled. "I have never wanted something more in my life," he said quietly, hands fisting at his sides. "I have never asked you for anything before." Father Winter took in the sad nymph and knew, with all the certainty that he knew Jim to be, that if he did not grant such a wish it could take the boy centuries to get over it.

"Fine," Father Winter caved with a wave of his hand. Jim's face immediately broke into a wide smile. "Under my conditions you shall be granted this one wish—"

"Of course, anything," Jim rushed, bouncing on the balls of his feet in excitement.

"One, you must find a house to live in," Father Winter began, graciously ignoring the interruption. "Two, a horse—"

"Sir," Spock interrupted smoothly, stepping up to stand beside Jim. "If I may interject?" Father Winter's mouth drew into a straight, dry line. "Horses are no longer the main means of transportation. Vehicles called "cars" are."

"Then you must get a car," Father Winter continued with a glare in Spock's direction. "Lastly, a bag of gold--or whatever it is they're using for currency—to sustain you."

Jim quirked an eyebrow at that but even this could not contain the intensity of his smile. Father Winter dismissed him with a wave of his hand and suddenly the cloud beneath him no longer held his weight. He fell down through the cloud into the crisp air below, which he could _feel_ now. The sky looked so much bluer now but he was sure it was probably just the same shade. It did not matter as he continued to fall, plummeting towards the Earth. Jim did not expect, however, that hitting a tree would hurt so badly (he knew many trees and had often found them a kind people, so this revelation came as something as a shock). Nor did he expect the ground to be so hard. The first moments of being a human were full of nothing but pain and then, blissfully, sudden darkness.

&amp;

They'd only just arrived at the house a day ago. Things had been going rather smoothly. The small town clinic of Riverside had greeted him enthusiastically. People seemed all too kind around these parts and Leonard already had more dinner invitations to more houses than he knew Riverside actually had.

The new house was taking some getting used to, however. It was large, much larger than their old Georgia house. It had no veranda to speak of, much to Joanna's dismay (and Leonard's private own) and keeping the place warm was a skill Leonard had not yet mastered.

Joanna, at least, was eager to make adjustments to this new place. Leonard had been pleasantly surprised by her enthusiasm. She was trying to make the place home, even though it was an extreme difference to what she had known her whole life. Most of the second day she spent in the back yard and tried to make perfect snowmen.

There was a good collection of the snow sculptures growing in the backyard when Leonard heard, "PAPA!" He was up and on his feet immediately, coffee and patient chart forgotten. He didn't even think of a coat as he rushed out the door and into the yard. Joanna was standing at the very back of the huge yard, just under the tree.

She looked perfectly fine at a distance and when he reached her, she _was_ perfectly fine. What wasn't perfectly fine was the man laying crookedly in the snow at the trunk of their tree. He was blond and very pale, but clearly very alive.

"He fell from the sky!" Joanna was all but screaming, her small finger pointing repeatedly at the man. Leonard barely registered what she was saying because his eye were on the man's very broken leg.

"Joanna," he ordered and she fell immediately silent. "Get me the phone, this man is hurt." Leonard didn't see her leave, focused on pressing his fingers against the man's throat.

Everything about the blond was perfectly fine, save the leg. His temperature was normal, heart rate normal, and, as Leonard pulled the eyelids of one eye apart, no concussion. Leonard stopped, suddenly entranced by the deep ocean blue of the man's eyes and his heart began to race. He nearly jumped out of his skin when the man blinked and his eyes focused.

"Bwuh?" the young man managed.

"You've broken a bone," Leonard said clearly and felt embarrassed as those too-blue eyes tracked his every move.

"Bones?"

"Uh, well, no—" whatever stupid thing Leonard was going to stutter about was thankfully cut short when Joanna shoved the wireless house phone into his hand. "Thank you, Joanna."

Soon, despite Joanna's and their tree friend's attempts to have conversation, Leonard had a nurse from the clinic over and they were carrying the man into his house. Much to his dismay, the nurse explained that the roads were too icy for the ambulance and that they were stuck at Leonard's house until morning. The nurse left in a chorus of 'thank yous,' the young man's being the loudest. _A little too loud_, Leonard thought dryly as he shut the door after the nurse and knew, full well, that the pain meds he had given the kid were bound to have made him loopy.

"Bones," the young man said, staring at Leonard. Leonard stared back from across the coffee table. "Thank you, too."

The first question that popped into Leonard's mind was '_did you just call me Bones?_ but he discarded it for more useful ones like, "What's your name?" and "Why were you in my tree?"

"Jim," Jim answered with a grin and opened his mouth to say more, white teeth glinting in the light but Joanna beat him to it.

"He didn't fall from the tree he fell from the sky I saw it, papa, I swear," she said all in one breath as she watched Jim very closely.

Jim didn't seem to like this idea, his eyes growing wide and darting between father and daughter. "No, that's impossible," he protested and shook his head. "I was climbing your tree because my…ball got stuck and I needed it back." Leonard's expression must have been very clear on how much he didn't buy Jim's story as the man's expression became sheepish and he ducked his head. "Honestly."

"Well, you better call home or wherever it is you're from," Leonard said with a sigh. He'd dealt with similar cases before in an ER, so Jim's antics were nothing new. He handed Jim the phone and watched in bemusement as Jim simply stared at the thing as if he hadn't a clue what to do with it. "Do you have someplace to go?"

Big, blue eyes looked up at him. "No," Jim answered, almost apologetically. Leonard turned to see what Joanna saw of this but it was a mistake. An identical expression on Joanna's face, fitted with golden-brown eyes, stared back at him. The last time he saw this expression had been for Tiger Lily the kitten, who was now Tilly the housecat and was probably sleeping in his clean clothes somewhere in the house.

"You can stay here—" Jim gasped in delight and Leonard grumbled on, "but _only till your leg is healed_."

&amp;

Having Jim around the house seemed to make things easier. It shouldn't have, as the man was pretty inept at all things except what Joanna considered important: telling stories, making snowmen, and eating cookies. Leonard was all too ready to help with two of those fronts and dismayed when every batch of cookies he managed to bake would instantly disappear within an hour between both his daughter and guest. At first, he was weary of Jim who had seemingly very little connection to the outside world. Leonard was unsure how one would politely ask someone about something like that; Jim had no clothes besides the clothes on his back, no identification of any kind or even a cent to his name. When he did get the nerve up to ask Jim smiled at him honestly and shrugged, "I decided to get away from it all for the winter," he explained, "let everything from my life go and just try to make it on my own." Leonard accepted this only because, from the impression Jim had made already, it seemed pretty in character and it wasn't Leonard's place to make judgments on a stranger's life. So he mentally marked the subject a touchy one for Jim and dropped it.

As far as Joanna was concerned, by the third day he'd been there, Jim was family. Leonard was flabbergasted by this development. Joanna, had previously been resistant to anyone who'd intruded on their lives, whether it was someone he'd poorly attempted to date or one of the rare times he invited a coworker over to dinner. He knew it had to do with how her mother had literally walked out of their lives. Only six years ago, what felt like a lifetime now, was when Jocelyn had packed her bags, got in the car and only made a farewell in the form of serving Leonard divorce papers. Jim, however, got an instant invitation to their family and a free pass to return whenever he'd like.

Leonard suspected it was entirely because Joanna was convinced, with all the conviction of a ten-year-old, that Jim had come from the sky. She'd worriedly asked him in a too-loud whisper if Jim was an angel and that maybe grandpa had sent him? That had thrown Leonard for a loop and kept him up for nearly half the night, staring blankly at the wall with an untouched bottle of bourbon at his elbow. He had never thought she'd ever convince herself of such things ever again after she had gotten over Santa. What a debacle that had been. Joanna was getting too smart for his own good, realizing Leonard's handwriting was on the notes that were supposed to be from Santa. Leonard would have been proud if not for the truly massive temper tantrums that had followed.

Jim's presence turned out to be a convenience, though. On the days when Leonard had to go to the clinic and there was no day care, Jim picked up the slack. This wasn't an immediate arrangement. After all, they had met because Jim fell out of a tree, but it was an eventual one. In the beginning, these babysitting sessions were overseen by a nurse who had been the original plan in such instances. Leonard didn't quite trust Jim yet, and after all, the man's leg was still broken.

Soon, though, as December progressed, Leonard found himself beginning to trust Jim...with Joanna at least. He was not allowed in the kitchen for anything more than getting himself a glass of water. Jim had no idea how to use a microwave, was superstitiously afraid of the gas top stove and refused to believe that an oven was something that should be in a house. "You have a fireplace, isn't that enough burning in one house?" Jim argued loudly from where he had retreated into the foyer, as far from the kitchen as he could get. He delighted in the fridge but not even that was enough to keep Jim in the room for more than a few minutes. All meals were moved, then, from the informal kitchen table to the dining room. Joanna actually enjoyed this more, claiming that it seemed more like a real family dinner now.

Another of Jim's quirks were the nicknames. Leonard's had come quick and easy but Jim was having a hard time figuring one out for Joanna. 'JoJo' was the first tried and rejected incarnation, followed by 'Anna,' plain old 'Jo' and, Leonard's personal favorite, 'Banana.' The story behind this peculiar nickname was what made it so interesting. Jim had never seen a banana before, apparently, just as he had never seen many things before (like microwaves or fridges or stoves). Leonard didn't try to overthink the matter because Jim was actually starting to grow on him and any speculation towards possible insanity would just ruin it. Joanna found this further proof in that Jim was an angel of some sort. Privately, Leonard found this to be all too likely just based on Jim's appearance alone. Jim was ethereal with his golden blond hair and intense blue eyes, not to mention how goddamned pretty he was. These kind of reasons were not to be shared with Joanna, however, so he stayed firmly skeptical of any idea that Jim was more than just Jim.

"Joanna," he stopped her one night on her usual 'Jim is an angel (or some other fairytale person capable of flight)' argument that had overtaken normal story time before bed. "Isn't Jim good just being Jim? Why do you have to make him be more?"

Her brown eyes immediately went thoughtful, her bottom lip pursing in a pout. Leonard found no shame in finding the expression endlessly adorable, much to Joanna's dismay. "It's not that I want him to be more, papa," she finally answered. "I know he's more, can't you tell?"

Sometimes, Leonard was sure that he could. But he didn't say this just told her it was time for bed and tucked her into bed. He was on his way out the door when her quiet voice made him pause. "Do you think he's Jack Frost?" Joanna didn't elaborate further but the thought stuck with him.

For Jim, adjustments to human life were odd to say the least. He was sure that he would have acclimated much quicker if not for having to deal with his broken leg. Bones had put a cast on Jim's leg the day after Jim had broken it and taught him how to use crutches. Humans were already awkward and graceless enough, but being suspended one-legged, with metal sticks under his armpits made getting used to having to walk everywhere all that much harder. Bones was patient with him, however, and Jim secretly reveled in the attention of Bones' gentle hands on his shoulders, keeping him steady.

In fact, Jim reveled in everything he was fortunate enough to do with Bones. He couldn't believe his luck that he could have ended up with just the man who had inspired him to be human. Here, he was never lonely as he'd been as a nymph. Whenever the familiar feeling snuck up on him, he would turn around and see Joanna with a colouring book she wanted to show him or Bones with a mug of hot chocolate. Food was something he'd never had the opportunity to experience (winter nymphs ate snow after all) so every new meal Bones cooked for him was like a treasure. His favorite so far had been burgers but hot dogs were a close second, or maybe grilled cheese.

Most of his time, besides trying not to fall down the stairs or trying not to trip in the snow, was spent helping the McCoys unpack. It was easy to slowly get to know each of his new friends with each new box they opened. Pictures filled with scenes from years past of Joanna when she was barely a armful in Bones' arms, to even older ones of Bones in blue robes with a strange, flat hat, were his favorite. Jim took each photo into his room that night and piled them on his bed, careful not to clank the fragile frames together. When night fell he retreated into his room and looked at each picture and took in every detail, every emotion on any face, and tried to imagine the lives that went with each.

He was surprised when his door creaked open and Bones' silhouette filled his doorway. "Any reason you've shanghaied nearly all our photos?" Bones asked as he crossed his arms over his chest. Jim ducked his head, stacking the photos he had looked through on the still large pile of of remaining pictures. Bones huffed and walked further into the room. "Naw, it's alright, I was just curious." He sat down on the edge of the bed, picking up the top photo. It had a young Bones in it beside an older gentlemen with the same eyes and the same crooked wry smile that often overtook Bones' face. Jim had stared at this one the longest, enraptured by the younger Bones' unabashedly open and happy expression.

"Is that your father?" Jim asked hesitantly as he watched Bones' expression. It was sad, profoundly so, and very lonely. Jim's chest ached because he could not understand Bones' sense of loss, as he had never experienced such things. But he could understand the loneliness so he reached out and curled his fingers around Bones' hand, loosening the too tight grip on the old wooden picture frame. Bones sighed, his eyes finally dragging away from the photo to their hands. He smiled, soft and careful at Jim, a silent thanks that Jim wasn't sure he deserved.

The next morning, Jim was disheartened to find Bones was in the same melancholy from the night before. He watched his friend go about the morning with the constant presence of tension in his shoulders and slight dip at the bottom of his mouth. Jim knew perfectly well it was his fault so he cornered Joanna just before Bones was getting ready to leave work. He hobbled over to her, crutches merely a suggestion at this point, and sat down in the chair beside her. "Joobs," he whispered. Her head shot up from the book she'd been reading. It wasn't the first time they'd had a secret meeting like this. "What can I do to make someone feel better?"

Her eyes narrowed and she turned away from him briefly to crease the corner of one page in her book crisply before she shut it. "There are lotsa things," Joanna answered, leaning in closer to him, her voice hushed and she was much better at whispering than Jim. "How bad is this someone feeling?"

"Really bad," he answered guilty. She pouted and sat back in the chair, her head tipping over the back. Jim fell silent as he waited for her advice. Joanna had become something like his teacher. Sure, he could go to Bones just as easily but...he didn't. Mostly, if he was honest, because he was embarrassed and didn't want to do anything but impress Bones (something he was having a very hard time with). Joanna didn't judge him and graciously helped him, even if her answers weren't always immediate.

"I feel a lot better after hugs," she suggested and sat forward again, poking her finger into his shoulder. "A really good hug, though, nothing lame. With both arms and like lots of kisses. Papa gives the best hugs like this." Her nose wrinkled delicately and she amended, quickly, "as long as he doesn't start tickling you. That isn't so fun."

Plan in place, Jim lurked in the foyer until it was just time for Bones to leave. He listened to Bones tell Joanna goodbye and to be good for him before the sound of his footsteps heading down the hall came towards Jim. As soon as Bones rounded the corner Jim grabbed his wrist in one hand and a fistful of sweater in the other and pulled Bones into a hug. "Jim!" Bones was stiff when he wrapped his arms around him and Jim frowned, resting his head on Bones' shoulder. "What are you doing?"

"Making you feel better," Jim tried not to snap or sound sullen but was sure he failed. But Bones was relaxing, melting against him and wrapping his arms around Jim's waist. It did feel wonderful and definitely made _Jim_ feel better. Uncertainly, but fueled by Joanna's expert advice, he pressed a kiss to the corner of Bones' jaw and then to the top of his cheekbone. He couldn't add anymore because Bones' head was jerking back and his vision was filled with dark hazel eyes and Bones' shocked expression. Jim felt his whole body flush in embarrassment, a startling sensation that made his head reel and a ball he couldn't swallow around form in his throat.

A giggle from the room behind Jim made them fly apart. Jim would have toppled over onto his butt if not for the strong hand that remained on his wrist. Joanna stood in the middle of the foyer, watching them with a wide-eyed look of picturesque innocence. She held up a set of keys, "You forgot your keys, papa." Bones sighed heavily, looking between his daughter and Jim. He gave Jim's wrist a slight squeeze before letting it go. Embarrassment still burned hot on Jim's ears so he hastily gave Bones his goodbye before fleeing.

 

&amp;

Snow was very, very cold and very, very wet. Jim had always known this in theory but when he was a nymph, snow had felt differently. It'd been softer, fluffier like the fur of Joanna's cat more than the wet slop that he was shoveling out of the McCoy driveway. Jim regretted arguing against Bones mother-henning to shovel the driveway out of some misguided sense of responsibility. Responsibility for how much glee he had taken from piling driveways high with snow, taking satisfaction in the human's constant plight against it. Now, the idea seemed cruel. At least his leg had gotten exceptionally better over the last week, both to Jim and Bones' delight. The cast had been removed and he was back on both feet now. Though he was still clumsy, still adjusting to being on his feet, period, it was far easier without the plaster cast weighing him down.

A few yards away Joanna was playing in the snow Jim was shoveling aside. She was building some sort of large dragon or maybe even a cat out of snow. Wisely, Jim kept such speculation to himself, very aware of how well Joanna took any ill comments about her snow sculptures. Behind him Bones was doing something to the car to keep it from having problems due to the icy conditions. That had been Another thing Jim had been fond of, breaking cars with well placed ice. He did not regret those actions so much, because they had been fun, but he respected humans so much more for dealing with his trickery.

Finally done with the snow, every patch of black tar revealed for all the world to see, Jim limped his way to the center of the untouched snow in the yard and fell flat on his back. Above him the sky was a brilliant crisp blue, so much so it made his eyes sting a little to look at it. He marveled, briefly, how such a sight just a few weeks ago would inspire him to go soaring high into the clouds. Yet, as he laid in the snow firmly planeted to the ground, no such desire struck him. Before any other thoughts could wander into his mind, the sky was eclipsed by Bones worried expression and hazel eyes. Jim's belly grew warm with other desires that, while similar to flying, were much more pleasurable. "Are you okay, Jim?" Bones asked. Jim nodded, snow crunching under him, and began moving his arms back and forth.

"Been wanting to make a snow angel for a while," Jim explained with a grin. Bones scoffed and stood up straight, looking over to where Joanna played. "Never made one before."

"You are a piece of work, Jim Kirk," Bones laughed with a small shake of his head. Jim wasn't sure whether to be insulted by that or not, as Bones was smiling at him. He stuck out his tongue instead but regretted it immediately when the icy dry air stung. Bones laughed at him more and sat down beside him in the snow, ruining his snow angel. Jim didn't mind much because Bones was far warmer than any snow angel ever would be. "I've been meaning to talk to you."

"Okay," Jim replied and sat up, shaking the snow from his hair. Bones gave him a grumpy look for that, dusting the splatter off his jacket. They sat in silence for a minute. "Okay?"

"Preferably inside," Bones clarified with a huff and stood up. "You'll catch your death if we sit in the snow." He grabbed Jim's wrists and carefully pulled him upward, muttering calm words of support under his breath about Jim's still healing leg. Jim wobbled over to the porch as Bones went to talk to Joanna and then immediately decided against waiting for the other man outside because the snow was starting to melt on his jacket, leaving him even colder than before. He made it inside, shrugging off the five layers of coat, jacket and sweater in the dense warmth of the house. When Bones finally did make it inside, Jim was pulling his gloves off with his teeth and turned to look, eyes wide.

"Is there still cocoa on the," Jim frowned, glancing towards the wall in the direction of the kitchen, "stove?" Bones seemed full of laughter for Jim today and chuckled at this as he pulled off his heavy coat.

"Yes, probably still warm if you're lucky," Bones answered and took Jim's gloves from him. "These are gross and do not belong anywhere near your mouth," he scolded with a disgusted look, holding the offending gloves between his thumb and forefinger. "I don't know how you manage to get so dirty shoveling fresh snow, Jim."

"It's a talent," Jim protested with a grin. Bones just rolled his eyes and vanished into the cellar. Jim was still wary of cellars. Only bad things lived underground, like foxes or groundhogs. He couldn't believe anyone actually liked groundhogs, especially since they ended winter. He frowned as he made his way into the kitchen, weary of another thing he couldn't believe humans _enjoyed_. The stove was very warm though and he was still feeling chilled from the damp snow, so he moved closer, hands protectively held out in front of him.

He shivered at the sudden explosion of warm that sent goosebumps up his skin (this he believed was from fear) and started perspiration on this neck. Jim scowled at the stove. He nearly jumped out of his skin when Bones suddenly brushed past him, walking straight up to the stove and checking the pot that held the cocoa. "Hm, little warm in here isn't it?" he muttered, reaching over the stove to turn one of the many dials that lined the back. Jim watched from a careful distance now, mug in hand. Bones turned to eye Jim with a smirk. "You don't expect me to come over there, do you?"

Jim didn't move beyond holding the mug in hand, it had Rudolph a ridiculous red nosed reindeer on it but Jim liked the colours, at arms length in front of him. "Yes," he answered with a look that dared Bones to question him. Bones, tactfully, did not and instead took the mug from Jim. "Thank you."

"Don't mention it," Bones drawled, pouring the cocoa into the mug. He walked over to Jim, handing the mug to him and taking his elbow in hand. "Let's talk?" He led Jim to the study, one of the more unused rooms in the house with a lot of their unpacked boxes still piled around. Despite this, it still had Leonard's ancient overstuffed and terribly ugly sofa in it. While having a million good reasons to be tossed only one good reason kept Leonard from getting rid of it: how damned comfortable it was. The fabric was perfectly worn to that wonderful just-threadbare cotton smoothness and the cushions were so well-used that they conformed to your body as soon as you sat, making any position immediately comfortable. It was on this couch that a lot had happened to Leonard, some good and a whole lot of bad.

Jim dropped down onto the old couch as if he had known it for years, settling into the exact position against the left arm that Leonard almost always assumed. Leonard stood in the doorway, staring at Jim with a mixture of disbelief and amusement. Jim looked up from his cocoa with an innocent expression that didn't quite make the mark. "What's up?"

"This is about Joanna," Leonard warned immediately as he sat down next to Jim, who twisted and squirmed around so that they were facing each other. "And I don't want you to take it the wrong way..." Jim gave him a funny look, handing Bones the mug of cocoa without even having to ask, as if knowing Leonard wanted a sip as soon as the thought entered his head. "Ever since you've fallen out of our tree," he said this with a wry smile, "Joanna's been a little obsessed with the idea that you're an...angel."

Jim blinked and sat back, a small frown tugging at the corners of his mouth. "An angel? Like with wings and God and stuff?" Jim asked, clearly confused. Leonard had to take a second to think about that, unsure that there were any other kind of angel.

"Yes?" he said uncertainly. Jim gave him a funny look again and took back the mug from Leonard, holding it carefully between both hands with relish. "I just wanted to let you know...in case she'd been actin' weird around you about it."

"I haven't noticed," Jim admitted with a thoughtful look. Leonard noted with amusement it was similar to Joanna's but Jim's eyebrows drifted lower than Joanna's ever had. "Should I be offended? Because it doesn't seem like a bad thing to me."

Leonard smiled with a slight sigh as he sat back against the couch which graciously softened under his weight. "I suppose that you shouldn't be offended," he said, smile turning a bit sad. "But her reasons are a little...awkward, for you." He looked at Jim who sat quietly watching him, mug still cherished between each palm. "Joanna believes that my father sent you here or...she did before. Actually, this whole conversation could be incorrect now if she's changed her theory," he laughed with a shake of his head, "now you might be Jack Frost."

He wouldn't have noticed if he hadn't already been watching Jim so carefully (which, upon reflection, was untrue because he had gotten to know every part of Jim including his subtle ticks) the way Jim stilled at the mention of the children's fable hero. Leonard's heart sped slightly for no good reason, he scolded it, because such ideas were ridiculous. At Jim's sudden joking grin, Leonard dismissed all suspicions despite his heart's protests and how Jim's smile didn't quite reach his eyes.

"I'm not an angel," Jim laughed, "and I am most certainly not Jack Frost."


	2. Jack Frost (2/2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim's never been called Jack Frost before but neither has he been in love, part duex.

Joanna had been throwing a fit all morning since Leonard had been called in to work. He was honestly surprised by it, even though it was Christmas Eve and he'd had to cancel his "dinner" with Joanna and Jim that evening. It wasn't something new, however; it wasn't the first time he'd been called away on a holiday but it was the first time since Joanna was six that such a fit had been thrown. She'd refused to speak to him or say goodbye before he left, holed up in her room. Jim didn't look worried though, his bright eyes determined.

"Jim--" Leonard began weakly. He felt exhausted, stuck between his daughter and the growing queue of patients at the clinic. Outside, the weather was steadily taking a turn for the worse.

"I got it, Bones,"Jim hedged, handing Leonard his coat and making shooing motions. Bones gave him a scolding look as he shrugged on his jacket but patted Jim's shoulder on his way past to the door. He turned to give Jim a significant look before disappearing out the door.

Jim watched Bones rush across the yard to his truck and frowned with every icy gust of wind battering Bones. The sky overhead looked ominous, a dark slate grey with clouds that seemed to boil. He sighed against the window glass and stepped back, drawing a small frowning face in the condensation. Upstairs he heard a door open and then the light footfalls of feet on the stairs. "Jim?" Joanna called from the bottom step. She was wrapped in a large green quilt, her face barely visible through a small opening in the folds of the quilt. "Did papa leave?"

"Yeah, Jannie," he said and walked over to her. The quilt was something new because he was sure he'd never seen it before. Joanna didn't give him any time to ask her about it before she was heading back up the stairs. Without a word, Jim followed. She headed, not back into her room, but Bones'. Bones had the biggest bed of them all, for some reason Jim still wasn't sure of and had to do with Bones' room being a master, and Joanna crawled up onto the bed. She fell over flat in the exact center of the bed and the quilt camouflaged her from sight, becoming more a haphazard pile of blanket than an actual whole girl.

He climbed up beside her. "I've never seen that quilt before," Jim began conversationally as he watched the steady rise and fall of the quilt, the only hint Joanna was even there. Her reply was too muffled for him to understand. "What?"

She surged upward, flinging the quilt up over his head. He blinked in the drastically dimmer light, barely making out her features at first. "I said my momma made it," she told him impatiently. "I got it out of my closet because..." she sniffed mid sentence and wiped her nose on the heel of her hand, "I miss her a lot, Jim." Joanna sniffed again. "It isn't fair."

"Why not?" Jim asked and reached up to brush away the tears leaking from the corner of her eyes.

"Momma doesn't want me," she said softly, her hands fisting on her knees. "She left me n' papa because she didn't want me no more. But then papa goes and he leaves all the time and it...I hate it!" She yelled this and slammed her hands hard against her knees.

"Your papa didn't leave you," Jim corrected. "Your papa is coming home tonight and he will be here tomorrow for Christmas and then the day after that and then the day after that." She didn't seem to believe him or refused to, so he continued on. "He _had_ to leave, Joanna."

"Just because of his stupid job," Joanna spat.

"No, it's more than that," he argued vehemently. Joanna looked at him hopeful, almost expectant. His heart tightened as realization struck him and then, as the words left his mouth his heart seemed to _grow_, "You're father is one of a kind, Joanna, and people need him because he's so special." Carefully, Jim took her small hand between his and pressed it between his palms. "You'll see, one day, when you're just as special." She suddenly tossed the quilt off, sending it flying across the room. He blinked in the sudden bright light but then caught sight of her face, wet with tears but split by a tentative smile.

"Thanks, Jim," she enthused, childlike tenacity to bounce back from any heartache working tenfold. Joanna suddenly scrambled off the bed and balked at the clock beside the bed. "Oh no! We're gonna miss the Christmas special on TV, Jim!" Jim hopped up immediately and began to race her down the stairs, winning only because he cheated by picking her up by her waist and tossing her over his shoulder. She squealed and squirmed until he deposited her on the sofa in the living room with an 'oof.'

"Quickly!" Jim cried as she grabbed the remote and turned the TV on. They thrummed with impatience as she went through each channel until the right one finally came up. Joanna snuggled against his side as the screen filled with the cartoon face of Santa Claus, who was with some sort of skeleton man. He smiled down at her brown head.

He opened his mouth to mention the oddity of this when the sound of the front door opening interrupted him. Joanna was off the couch and into the foyer within seconds and straight into Bones' welcoming arms.

Jim followed at a much more sedate pace, watching. When Bones' head lifted from Joanna's attention and he looked straight a Jim with a wide, grateful smile, all thoughts of television flew from Jim's mind. "I got someone to cover for me," Bones said, standing up with a huff under the weight of Joanna in his arms. She was too big but he still sometimes indulged her under such circumstances. "Figured we could still have an impromptu Eve dinner."

 

&amp;

Christmas was new for Jim. Admittedly, a lot of things were new for Jim but Christmas especially so. He had seen, many times, the effects of Christmas. Trees being cut down only to be carried into houses, glittering lights strung through trees and around tree trunks or in the whimsical form of fawn on the lawn. Celebrations in the Winter Kingdom did not include Christmas. The only thing that deserved anything like a party was the winter solstice, a critical time each year during the winter season. Nothing about this celebration included electric lights or presents. Mostly it was a lot of work and little pay off. If the day went well, Father Winter often threw a celebratory blizzard but that was the extent of it.

Human traditions, Jim marveled, were far superior to any that the winter gypsies had. Christmas was more than just a time for presents and tinsel and trees indoors. It was about family and celebrating each other through gift giving. Jim loved it, especially since in the face of yesterday's turmoil, the McCoys seemed intent on celebrating all that much harder. The morning was spent with presents, something Jim had learned of just in the nick of time to get his friends gifts. Presents weren't an entirely foreign concept to him. The winter gypsies were a generous people, after all, and he had often received small trinkets or charms to protect him from harmful spirits or to hang from branches of trees. Spock was especially fond of giving Jim some of his best snowflakes which he used with due discretion on the most beautiful days of winter. Uhura, a gypsy who helped sort Spock's finished snowflakes, had once given him a crystal prism. Jim sometimes put it out on the first of January to cast a brilliant rainbow across the land.

Human gift giving was much the same but, as he found, were not such practical things. They included toys for children or jewelry for women or sporting goods for men. This, Jim found, was what separated a _gift_ from a _present_. Also, presents weren't just handed over as is but instead wrapped in brightly coloured paper with bows or tinsel. Wrapping the gift made it so much more exciting. Jim thrummed with anticipation to know what every single box contained, even though not one was addressed to him. The lack of gifts for himself bummed Jim out for a good few minutes until he strictly reminded himself that it was a gift he was even here in the McCoy house in the first place.

Jim was the first one down in the morning, sitting curled on the end of the couch closest to the Christmas tree. His gaze moved from the window to the gifts under the tree was he waited for the sun to finally rise. Just as the grey sky outside began to light with the telltale sings of the sunrise, Joanna's feet thundered down the stairs. Behind her a sleepy Bones followed, hair mussed and pajamas askew. They both paused in the hallway when they spotted Jim.

"You're way too early!" Joanna cried and rushed into the living room. Jim grinned shamelessly. "Presents can't be opened until after sunrise!"

"And after papa gets his coffee," Bones grumbled, continuing on into the kitchen. Joanna groaned loudly in protest. "Joanna Lanier McCoy," came the stern voice from the living room that ended her drone immediately. She jumped over the threshold into the living room and slid across the rug and onto her butt in front of the tree.

"I'm not allowed to pick out which one I wanna open first, either," Joanna huffed.

Joanna opened each of her gifts carefully, much to Jim's dismay. She pulled the tape off and then pulled back the colourful paper to reveal each gift in her lap. Her beaming smile made it all worth it, even if it was just for some frilly pink shirt her aunt had gotten her or a book. When Jim's gift was finally sitting on her knees he sat forward in his seat in anticipation, beside him Bones snorted in amusement. Without looking Jim punched him in the thigh and earned another snort. Joanna looked up from the plain brown paper, the only thing had been able to get in time, at Jim with a brilliant smile. He was confused, for a second, as to why she was happy before she had even opened the gift.

"Thank you, Jim," she said her fingers painstakingly picking each piece of tape off. "You didn't have to get me anything."

"Of course I did," Jim corrected with a scoff, appalled by the very idea. "What kind of friend would I be if I didn't?"

This earned him another view of the beaming smile. When the brown paper was ready to be pushed aside, Jim held his breath as she pushed aside the paper and pulled off the shoebox lid. Inside, nestled in newspaper, was a delicate but simple wooden carving of an angel. Joanna gasped, her small shoulders slumping and wide eyes welling up with tears. Shock hit Jim in the gut, sharp and unforgiving before it was suddenly replaced with an armful of ten year old girl. Joanna hugged him tight, her face pressing into the fabric of his t-shirt. He stared down at her auburn head before looking up into Bones' face. He didn't look angry or sad, but happy.

"I'm sorry, Joanna," Jim said weakly, wrapping his arms around her slight frame. "Your papa said you thought I was an angel but I'm not so I thought that I'd..."

She drew back, eyebrows drawn over her wet eyes, and stared up at him. "It's perfect, Jim," Joanna insisted, fisting her hands in his shirt. "I'm crying because I'm happy, silly."

Relief flooded through him and he relaxed a smile tugging at his lips. After that, in Jim's _humble_ opinion, every other gift Joanna got was pale in comparison. She paid each one the same diligence though. Bones' pile of gifts was smaller in comparison and had things like bourbon and more books. He seemed pleased anyway and, when there were no more presents left, rose to stand. Jim stopped him with a hand on his wrist. Bones stopped and dropped back onto the couch, eyeing Jim curiously.

"You forgot one," Jim said, pulling another haphazardly wrapped present from behind him. He handed it to Bones and bit his lip, eyes darting off to stare at the tree. Bones considered Jim for a beat before opening his present. He shakily exhaled when all the paper was gone, falling forgotten to the floor. In his hand was the picture of him and his father from so many years ago but this time in a new frame, carved from wood in swirling knotted patterns and twisting bark.

"I thought it needed a better frame," said Jim quietly around the lump in his throat that had returned tenfold.

"Did you carve this?" Bones asked, voice thick. Jim nodded, confused by this question. He was very good at carving ice so wood was no big deal. From the look in Bones' eyes it was a huge deal and Jim's heart sped up under the intensity of the stare. Across the room, Joanna marveled at her angel, breathing a quiet 'wow.' "Thank you." Bones held out his hand which Jim took and was immediately pulled into Bones' arms. He melted into the hug, spellbound by Bones' scent filling his senses. He jumped when smaller, bonier arms joined the mix.

"Thank you, Jim!" Joanna crowed, squeezing what little of Jim she could get at. Jim's heart jumped and then soared when he felt the two McCoys press a kiss into his hair.

&amp;

Joanna was curled on the couch under the green quilt surrounded by some new stuffed animals and a lovely little doll. Leonard was watching her from the threshold between the kitchen and living room. He sighed, a quiet content sound, and turned at the slight sound behind him. Jim sat at the kitchen table, a shock in itself, and was looking over one of the books Joanna had gotten for Christmas. Leonard walked over to look over Jim's shoulder, surprised to find the book was a collection of Christmas poetry and that the one Jim was reading was about Jack Frost.

Jim looked up at him a small, almost nostalgic smile on his face. "A familiar poem?" Leonard asked, thinking it must be from Jim's childhood. Jim's eyes dropped away and down back to the pages of the book, which he shut carefully.

"Something like that," he answered quietly. Leonard frowned, not at all liking the tone of Jim's voice when he said that. It wasn't a mood suited for Christmas. He stepped away and moved out into the living room, picking up the large paper bag that had sat, untouched, in the corner all day. He returned to the kitchen, gave Jim a smile and sat the bag in front of him.

"Sorry it's late,"he said sheepishly. "We had a horrible time deciding what to get you and," he gave Jim a dry look, "had a horrible time getting away from you to talk about deciding." Jim's expression was shocked, much to Leonard's chagrin, and he stood slowly and pulled the bag open. Out he pulled some new clothes, a small envelope and a wrapped package. "In the envelope is a gift card to get yourself some clothes," Leonard explained as Jim opened it up. "So you don't have to wear my old hand-me-downs any more." He tugged pointedly on the slightly too long sleeve of the shirt Jim was wearing.

As Jim unwrapped the package, Leonard shut his mouth. Inside was a picture of Jim and Joanna. He had figured it a good gift even though the picture had been on a whim. The two were standing under the very tree that Jim had fallen out of, heads bent over a half-formed snowman. Jim held a carrot in one hand that he was gesturing with and Joanna had smudges of black on her cheeks from the coal she held, her expression one of delight. Jim sat down heavily and stared at the picture in silence, thumb rubbing gently over the edge of the frame.

He looked up suddenly, eyes watery, and gave Leonard an honest smile. Leonard's heart fluttered at the sight of it directed so openly at him. "I love it," Jim said, voice thick with emotion. Leonard could only nod dumbly and step closer to Jim, leaning over to press a kiss against his forehead. Jim sat back, stunned, and stared up at Bones' bright red face. "Thank you, Bones." It was then, as Bones face grew even redder at his mischievous smile, that Jim knew he was in love.

&amp;

After Christmas things slowed down and quieted at the McCoy household. A lull overtook them as they basked in the warmth of the good cheer left over from Christmas. Joanna spent the first few days afterward at her new friends' houses, playing with the new toys they'd all gotten. Jim was a little disheartened when there were a few times he was left at the house alone but Bones was always sure to call frequently on these occasions, making the instances anything but lonely. They were both distinctly aware of the subject they constantly skirted around as Jim got better and better on his feet everyday, neither one mentioning how his time limit in the McCoy house had come and gone many days ago.

Jim really didn't like to think about it and welcomed any distraction that could keep his mind from it. The most common distraction came from his clothes-shopping plight. It wasn't something he'd actually ever had to do before. Most of his clothes as a nymph had been made by the gypsies and weren't any different than a simple tunic and pants spun from polar bear hair dyed a rich blue. Never before had he ever had options for what to wear and now found himself a little lost. Bones was a good resource on what not to wear and what to wear but Jim tried not to rely on the man too much considering that Jim's clothes already literally _were_ what Bones wore. He quickly learned that what he had been used to wearing as a nymph wasn't in fashion for anyone but women and had abandoned those ill conceived notions immediately.

Jeans were nice and easy, he found, and gold was a rich colour he'd never really gotten to experience before. Any kind of yellow, really, often found its way into this wardrobe now. Argyle seemed too pretentious, even to him, but a subtle plaid pattern was acceptable and also, apparently, in fashion. He got a lot of blue shirts, too, but only under Bones' suggestion. Something to do with matching his eyes, a ridiculous notion to Jim, but the clerk behind the counter had swooned and gave him her phone number when he'd worn a blue shirt once.

In fact, the more and more he went into town, the more and more female attention he got. Joanna found endless amusement in this mostly from Jim's obvious confusion. Bones wasn't as fond, often rolling his eyes whenever Jim sent a charming grin towards a lady or giving him a curt telling off whenever Jim brought up what sort of pretty girl he had seen today. "I don't give a shit that you think you're pretty, Jim," he'd snapped at him in the dressing room one day after they'd caught the cashier trying to get a peek at Jim. He'd only grinned and winked at Bones, which had earned him a blush much to his satisfaction.

Before they knew it, Christmas was already nearly a week in the past and New Years was fast approaching. By this time in the Winter Kingdom, Jim would have been preparing to put in overtime. January was the worst of the winter months in terms of work. He often was caught by Joanna staring up at the clouds overhead with a sympathetic expression, and she never believed him when he told her he was just daydreaming. She had gotten the idea in her head, after a few times catching Jim at the sky staring, that Jim was homesick. Joanna never did ask where home was or pry, just told her father whenever she had caught Jim about it. Bones would glance at him questioningly and Jim couldn't lie, so he would nod but shrug it off with a grin. Occasionally, however, he'd see Bones get ready to ask him about it but whatever Bones was going to say never came out and the moment passed.

Guilt about lying grew and grew in Jim as the days passed. He desperately wished to tell them about what he really was, who he really was but knew it was forbidden. Lying to them hurt because, though he wasn't much surprised by this revelation, the McCoys had become his family. Before this he hadn't had anything much like a family. What little he knew about where he'd come from had been told to him in hushed, hurried tones from gypsies whenever he'd gotten the nerve to ask. His mother was the Snow Queen, a tragic nymph who had not been seen for centuries. She was ruler of the North Pole, married to the Snow King who resided on the opposite pole. He was not their son, but only hers from a human. Little which was known about this human beyond a name he had heard many different forms of but in the end, came down to something like George Kirk.

Such a birth was unheard of, and at any rate he didn't believe this story very much because if he was only half nymph it was expected that his magic would be tainted and weaker. This wasn't the case and his magic was quite strong, rivaling that of Father Winter. He knew, however, he was not born like winter gypsies, carved from blocks of Arctic glaciers. Jim would probably never know the truth of his origins. The only way he could ever learn would be if he asked Father Winter, who would not take to such inquiry kindly. And, if he was honest with himself, Jim really didn't want to know where it was that he came from. It hurt enough that wherever he did come from or, more likely, whoever, their absence spoke enough for how important he was to them.

Being with Bones or Joanna was not to be compared to any vague stories he knew about his "real" family. Nor were they to be compared to the winter gypsies, who were more like his crew than family. He was never lonely with Bones and Joanna and Jim took that as answer enough to how much they really meant to him.

Almost as if fate could sense the contentment Jim had settled into, it dropped it all around his ears just four days before New Years. Bones had graciously gotten him out of the house that Monday, offering to take Jim along for a much needed trip to the grocery store. Jim loved the grocery store more than any other store. There was so much food, all with the potential to be delicious and eaten by Jim. Not to mention if you asked for a cookie at the bakery they gave you one for free. He had just gotten one of these aforementioned cookies (and one for Bones, which he knew would be rejected and meant two for him) when he wandered over to where Bones was looking over tomatoes. Jim opened his mouth to offer the cookie when he stopped, mouth hanging open, and stared wide eyed at the man who stood just a few feet away.

"Jim," Father Winter greeted with a slight incline of his head. He looked drastically different as a human, far less severe with his sandy-peppery hair and golden tan. Even his eyes, normally a foreboding and harsh grey, seemed kinder with the slightest hint of blue. Gone were the white robes in favor of a dark turtleneck sweater. "What a pleasure seeing you so soon." Jim nearly dropped his cookie, feeling suddenly foolish and reprimanded for it all at once.

A few feet away, Leonard turned to look in surprise. He had never thought anyone from town would know Jim, at least no one had in the month he'd been staying with Leonard. Jim looked anything but happy about it as the older gentlemen walked over to Jim but looked at Leonard. "I'm Christopher Pike," he greeted, holding out a hand that Leonard found to have the same overly intense warmth that Jim seemed to exude. The wry smile on his face, especially when directed towards Jim, made Leonard's hackles rise in sudden defense.

"Leonard McCoy," Leonard said and glanced at Jim. Jim was looking everywhere but at Leonard, his hands stuck in his pockets and his head ducked like a child who'd been scolded for spilling milk. He tried desperately to catch Jim's eye, offer his support against whoever this Christopher Pike was but was met with stony silence. Leonard sighed, "I'm gonna go get the milk, Jim, if you need me." He sent an unabashed glare towards Pike and turned on his heel and walked away.

"'Christopher Pike?'" Jim asked, almost mocked, with a quirk of his eyebrow.

"Better than Jim Kirk, nymph," Father Winter replied with none of the same discretion, completely pointed and barbed. Jim winced, knowing full well that Father Winter would of course know of any incarnation for Jim's mythical human father. When he met Pike's' eyes however, there wasn't reprimand there but an undiscernable look that worried Jim even more. He didn't have time to make excuses before their duo earned two more familiar faces. Spock and Uhura stepped up beside Pike and Jim couldn't help the grin that overtook his face.

"Salutations, Jim," Uhura greeted with a small mischievous smile. Beside her Spock gave Jim a rare quirk of his lips along with the smooth elegant raise of his eyebrow as he took in Jim's golden sweater. The two of them made a very interesting pair as humans. He knew they were romantically involved, a term used lightly when it came to winter gypsies, but it wasn't something they were open about. Here, amongst humans, Uhura was unabashedly holding Spock's hand--even in front of Father Winter. Jim marveled at the very idea of this, wondering what sort of changes had been going on while he'd been away.

Before Jim could exchange any greetings of his own with his friends, Father Winter--Pike--interrupted. "I am not here to merely visit you," he said with a grim look, holding out his hand towards Jim and gesturing towards a more deserted area of the grocery store. "We have urgent matters to discuss." Jim frowned and caught sight of Uhura's worried look and Spock's carefully blank one, and felt his heart sink. He moved past Pike and into the freezer sections. He was shocked when Pike, without any hesitation or even a surreptitious glance around, pulled open one of the heavy metal doors that led into the actual freezers. Jim stepped inside anyway and Pike followed after, turning on the light that they were lucky enough was inside.

"I don't know if you've noticed on your vacation," Pike began, arms crossed over his chest. "But an unwanted and unplanned blizzard has formed in your absence. We're not sure what happened or why it did, but I am incapable of ridding it." He paused and frowned, looking almost guilty. "I asked the Snow Queen--" Jim inhaled sharply, earning a glare from Pike "--as to why it was happening. She said that Winter missed you and some nonsense about you having not properly said goodbye."

Jim felt his heart sink, far from his chest and deep into the Earth. He kept silent as Father Winter continued on without pause or even acknowledging the turmoil that was apparent on Jim's face. "That's why you need to come back," Pike concluded. "Immediately." He didn't give Jim any time to argue, holding up a hand to stop any protest that might come from Jim, not noticing Jim was too shell-shocked to even formulate one. "I'll give you some time to say your goodbyes but no more than a day, Jim." Pike nodded curtly to Jim as if his silence were an agreement and left the freezer without another word.

By the time Jim recovered from this, he was still dumbstruck by it all and wandered out of the freezer and through the store in a daze. A voice called his name and stopped him and he turned to Uhura, who was standing beside the display of flowers and looking devastated herself. She walked over to him and tugged him out of the way of people into the alcove she and Spock had retreated to. "Are you gonna be okay?" she asked. He scowled at her because it was a stupid question.

"No," he answered and was embarrassed by how broken it sounded. Spock touched his arm gently, head bowed.

"I understand how attached you've become to this world," he said softly but his voice was firm. "And to these humans. If you truly desire Uhura and I, along with the assistance of many of the gypsies, will gladly argue for you to stay." Jim's heart fluttered with hope at this idea.

"Jim!" Bones called and nearly ran into Jim as he rushed up. He looked haggard suddenly, much different from the light-hearted Bones that had offered to take Jim to the grocery store. "I have to go, there's a blizzard coming and Joanna's collapsed at the daycare, she has a fever. I'm going to the clinic." He glanced at Spock and Uhura before looking back at Jim, expression almost angry. "It's this fucking weather, Jim, I should have known her immune system wouldn't be able to take it."

Bones was gone before Jim could say anything, out the door of the grocery store and running down the street to his car. Uhura was looking even worse now, almost visibly deflated.

"Jim, I'm sure that the girl is more than capable of recovering without your assistance," Spock began to protest. Uhura hovered anxiously behind him, her expression lined with worry. Jim shook his head sharply, waving both of them off with a smooth jerk of his hand through the air.

"I told Jo that when someone is one of a kind," he ground out, shoulders tense as he glared down at the window at the building storm. "What makes them so special is how they help people." He whipped his head around to turn the bright, burning glare on his friends. "I won't let her down." Jim didn't waste any more time arguing and ran out the door of the shop into the thick snow. Outside, it was easier to survey the blizzard and how severe it had become. Pike stood at the end of the street, the only solid figure visible in the white out.

"You've made the right choice." Just as suddenly as he had become human, Jim was transformed back into a nymph. The sensation was drastically different than being human, as if his soul has been freed from a box and spread far, erratically moving everywhere. Jim didn't take any time to adjust or assess the difference beyond that, soaring high into the atmosphere without a second glance to the town quickly receding below him. It was almost too easy to let go of the human side of him and forget that he had ever even been one.

&amp;

The Riverside clinic was a madhouse when Leonard arrived. They were understaffed and over-stuffed with patients. Leonard pushed through the crowded lobby into the ER and straight to the first patient dossier he could find. Joanna had already been there for nearly three hours, arrived around eleven in the morning, and has tested positive for streptococcus. As if strep throat wasn't bad news enough, his heart sunk further as he stared at the notes below the test results: _J. McCoy has been moved to ICU under critical condition, adverse allergic reaction to penicillin w/ immediate tongue swelling symptoms. Angioedema contained however streptococcus remains untreated due to shortage of cephalosporin. Shipments delayed by severe weather conditions._

He reshelved the chart and moved through the ER, to the small ICU ward that took up the far west wing of the clinic. Outside stood a familiar nurse, Christine Chapel, who spotted him immediately. Her expression was determined but he could see the carefully hidden tension in her shoulders. "Doctor McCoy," she greeted and handed him Joanna's full chart. He took it and tucked it under his arm, moving past her into the ICU. She fell into step beside him, continuing to speak. "Joanna has been here for three hours and came down with symptoms four and half hours ago." They stopped just a few feet from Joanna's bed. Leonard stared hard at his daughter who looked frail contrast to the massive navy hospital bed she lay on. "We would have had you in sooner but the blizzard conditions worsened so immediately that our communication went down sooner than any other part of the town."

"I saw the shortage," Leonard said and turned to her and didn't like what he saw in her expression. "What is the likelihood of the delivery making it here by tomorrow?" Chapel didn't often fidget or show any outward signs of weakness often but she did then, under McCoy's hard gaze, and smoothed her hands down the front of her scrubs. "Is there even a chance?"

"Last time we heard anything about the shipment," she said quietly, eyes downcast. "The truck had just arrived in Montrose." Chapel winced at his sudden blanch, his fist barely on the side of slamming when it connected with the supply cart next to them.

"Damnit, woman," Leonard hissed under his breath and tried desperately to reign in his emotions. "That's damn near a hundred miles from here." She nodded but looked up at him, her slim shoulders squaring.

"There is another way we can get supplies," Chapel insisted as she reached up to touch his shoulder. Her hand was warm through his thin t-shirt and vaguely, in the back of his mind, he wondered when and where he had lost his coat. "Muscatine General can send us some as soon as conditions clear up. We've already made the order, just before the lines went out for good." Her hand slided down his arm and squeezed tightly at his bicep before falling away and there's hope in her eyes again. "Blizzards like this usually blow themselves out within a day, trust me."

Trust her was all Leonard really could do for he had no knowledge of these things. Blizzards were a foreign entity in Georgia, the sort of thing pondered over and sympathized for the poor suckers who had to deal with them. Funny now that Leonard was one of those poor suckers. Chapel eventually moved off to other patients who could actually be treated and Leonard, in a daze, wandered over to Joanna's bedside. He stared at her pale, almost waxy complexion and tried desperately not to cry. Tears stuck themselves in his throat instead, unable to escape his eyes and bitter for it.

&amp;

Jim first stopped at the Riverside clinic. Leonard was easy to find even if the place was crowded with haggard patients, all in various states of windblown and generously powdered with snow. As he passed each person they shivered violently and sent startled looks around the clinic. He dodged through the crowd, careful not to stir up too much of a chill, and spotted Leonard at a phone, repeatedly making attempts at dialing a number. Jim hovered over, resisting the urge to reach out and touch Bones' shoulder, as he watched worriedly. Bones cussed and slammed the receiver back into the cradle, eyes snapping up as a nurse approached. "Phones are still down, has there been any radio contact from Muscatine?" The nurse shook his head, handing a chart to Bones as they started to walk away, "No, Doctor, the medical supplies haven't arrived. Joanna's been stabilized for now." Bones nodded jerkily in reply, "She's strong enough to wait until tomorrow, at the most, but I'd rather not push it. Do we..." Whatever else Bones had to say was lost to the rush in Jim's ears as he surged up through the clinic roof and out into the sky above.

Quelling a raging blizzard was as easy as it sounds: equal to that of quelling a raging bull. Jim had never actually done it before. Any blizzard before had been made by Jim and directed by Jim and loved by Jim. This one was unlike any he had ever created and it was fighting back against him as much as it could. In the end, Jim was still the nymph and armed with winter magic and the blizzard was still a blizzard that, while angry and stubborn, had no actual defense against him. Jim grappled with it for nearly two nights and, blissfully, on the morning of the second, the blizzard crippled and broke.

He floated, panting and weary, high above the Earth where the stars glimmered brighter in the thin atmosphere. The sun broke over the horizon, pale gold light reaching high enough to tickle against the undersides of his feet. Jim almost didn't see the woman, standing rather than floating as he was, mere feet away. She looked very solemn, her beautiful face glowing in the sunlight and white hair turning golden in the light. She turned and looked at him, crown glimmering enough to nearly blind Jim. He knew, in an instance, who the woman was and his heart--what remained of his human self--sped up.

"Jim," the Snow Queen said and her voice is like the snow, soft and subtle. "I'm sorry for the pain you've suffered, that you ever had to be alone." She was beside him now, even though Jim hadn't seen her move. She pressed her hand into his and he was shocked to find it warm. "You are not any longer, though, are you?" Her smile was as bright as the sun that was nearly fully above the horizon, its light casting her face into hard shadow. Words failed Jim, for he had nothing to say to her, but she seemed unfazed and continued on, "You belong on Earth, I see this now. I will speak to Father Winter, make him understand so you can return where you belong."

Denial surged in Jim. "No, I can't," he protested, hand gripping hers tight. "Who will prevent destruction like this if I'm not there? I have to," he swallowed thickly and dropped her hand, letting himself fall backward to Earth. He fell away and missed her small chuckle as she held up a small, blue gem in her fingers and stared at it with eyes the same stark blue as Jim's.

"Don't worry, my son," she said to the jewel, "there is another to take your place."

&amp;

When the shipment from the closest hospital finally arrived at Riverside, Leonard finally felt himself breathe for the first time in two days. Joanna had held on merely through her own defenses and sheer luck for the past forty-eight hours, something that Leonard's heart could barely take. He made sure to get the cephalosporin and administer it to Joanna himself. After that, worry sloughed itself from his shoulders and he made himself busy with work around the clinic again. The people of Riverside were a sturdy sort, and bounced back from the savage blizzard with a pep in their step.

Barely any actual injuries had happened, much to Leonard's infinite relief. He spent most of the time treating the few others who'd caught the same strain of strep throat that Joanna had. It was a vindictive and stubborn strain of the bacteria but through his and Nurse Chapel's own stubborn determination, they managed to cure most cases. By the second day Joanna was on the antibiotics, and she was already conscious and lucid, ordering around nurses and orderlies alike in a stunning rendition of her father. All Leonard's worry drained from him and he finally was able to sleep for a good five hours that night.

The next morning would have gone as smoothly if Joanna hadn't asked: "Where's Jim?" Leonard was in motion immediately, finding the closest phone and dialing for home. He learned pretty quickly that many of the residential phones were down, meaning his own, and the only way the clinic had been able to get contact outside was through cell phones. Jim definitely didn't have a cellphone and didn't have a car and could very well be frozen to death out in a ditch somewhere. This panicked idea gripped Leonard until his mind caught up and helpfully reminded him that Jim had just reconnected with old friends. He remembered pretty quickly then, the older gentleman and strange couple that he'd seen Jim with. He drifted back to Joanna's room and told her, quite certainly, that Jim was safe with friends. "How can he be?" Joanna argued anyway, her fists pulling at the blanket. "He's not here with us!"

After that she constantly asked for him, insisted that Jim wasn't safe wherever he was and that she would start screaming if Leonard didn't leave immediately to find Jim. She never did get around to screaming but instead dissolved into quiet sobbing, her face pressed hard into her pillow and away from her father. Joanna often refused to speak to him for hours afterwards. It was just after one of these incidents that Leonard had left to give her time to calm down. When he did return, an hour or so later, he was shocked to find two strangers there.

Well, no, he corrected himself as he approached at a careful pace, not strangers. They were the couple who had been with Jim when Leonard last saw him and delivered the bad news about Joanna. They looked very much the same, completely unaffected by their surroundings as they stood around Joanna's bed and laughed with her. Leonard hung back a second to look the strange pair over. The woman was beautiful and petite with warm caramel skin. Her brown hair spilled free over her shoulders and bright red coat. The man was a stark contrast, pale and stoic. He stood with perfect posture, hands behind his back as he observed Joanna and his companion with an utter lack of expression.

Leonard was unsure why he hesitated to greet them. It wasn't as if he was unwary of two dangerous people but more of unwary of the unknown. These two were very odd and he hadn't ever encountered such a...presence before. Leonard blinked when something in him protested and Jim came to mind. Jim did have a different presence, akin to the sun that cloyed and warmed you to your very core. These two were icy, more like the moon than the sun, and rigid where Jim was yielding.

"Papa!" Joanna called, finally having caught sight of him. The man turned to look at him, a single angled eyebrow rising in silent question. Leonard didn't hesitate any longer, knowing he'd been caught, and walked over to them. Joanna didn't seem worried and she had always been a better judge of character than him. "I met Jim's friends!" Leonard carefully didn't mention Joanna's early insistence that Jim had no other friends besides them and turned a pleasant look on the pair.

"Greetings, Doctor McCoy," the man said with a slight bow of his dark head. "I am Spock and this is Uhura." The woman smiled at him, honey-brown eyes dancing with hidden mirth. "We've come to ensure that your daughter, Ms. Joanna," Joanna giggled at this, which prompted another eyebrow raise from Spock, " was in good health as we heard she had been ill."

"Yes, as I am sure she's told you," Leonard said with an eyebrow raise of his own. "Nice of you two to come. Where's Jim?" As soon as the question left his mouth, Leonard wanted to take it back. Uhura's expression minutely shifted from open happiness to shuttered worry. Spock didn't change beyond the slight stiffening in his shoulders as if he had tried to stand up even straighter and failed. Worry from the early days flooded back into Leonard, tenfold.

"Perhaps we should speak in private," Spock said carefully and held a hand out to the open door of Joanna's room. Joanna began to protest but was immediately silenced by Leonard's quick 'Not now, baby,' before he followed Spock out the door. In the hall, Spock looked even more out of place against the brightly painted happy critters that danced along the walls of the pediatrics ward. He shifted on his feet and stared Leonard down. "I'm afraid that Jim will not be returning to Riverside. Urgent business has brought him elsewhere."

Leonard searched Spock's face desperate to find some hint of dishonesty. It was in vain because all he found was quiet sorrow but it wasn't for him, he realized almost in horror, it was for Jim. "He wouldn't leave without saying goodbye," Leonard breathed and irrational disbelief surged in him, over taking him in one massive upsurge of emotion. He stepped away from Spock and then hurried past, through the halls of the clinic and out into Riverside.

&amp;

"Jim?" Leonard called from the front door. Silence and a dark house greeted him. The place didn't seem much like a home today, lacking both his daughter and...friend. Leonard wasn't surprised by this revelation. He was fully aware that people made the home and not the places.

He mounted the bottom stair and looked worriedly up into the dark floor above, tentatively calling, "Jim?" again. There was no answer besides the silent creak of a settling house. Everything remained still but Leonard still fooled himself into thinking Jim was still here. His feet flew up the stairs, nearly tripping over the last one, and he stomped over to Jim's door. "Jim, you've got to come see Joanna she's--" The bedroom door swung open easily. "...asking for you." He finished slowly, throat suddenly thick around the words.

Jim's room was empty. There were still clothes, the bed unmade and if Leonard fooled himself enough, he could see the indent of where Jim had been sitting just that morning. He walked to the window, the curtains pulled wide. Out the backyard stretched an endless white canopy, undisturbed since the last vestiges of the blizzard had blown itself apart that afternoon. The floor behind him creaked and he whirled around, aware of the expectant probably hopeful smile on his face. Aware, all that much greater, when his heart sank and there was no one there to greet him.

He sighed, eyes drifting shut until white filled his vision and his breath caught. Leonard's eyes snapped back open and he breathed out again, long and slow. A white cloud drifted from his mouth, the water vapor lasting a good few seconds before disappearing into the air. His mind reeled. It hadn't been cold in the room, not the least until—along his arm, cold air trailed delicately up his hand and over his forearm, into the joint of his elbow and then up his shoulder.

Leonard's eyes fluttered as the chill air lingered on his cheek. Inconceivably, improbably, _impossibly_ he breathed out again, a single quiet name falling from his lips, "Jim?" He gasped when the air surged all over him now, under his shirt and through his hair, causing him to nearly fall back with the force of it.

Jim—he could never be a human again, _how could he_—stood a mere feet away, invisible and unseen by Leonard. He wasn't human any longer, hadn't been for nearly a week now, and yet in his chest he could feel his heart breaking. It was a strange sensation, like the tinkling of ice crystals in his chest. Had his heart always been this fragile? He wondered, perhaps it had, he had given it away so easily. Leonard stepped towards him, hazel eyes searching frantically.

"Jim, please?" Leonard said, swallowing hard. He seemed to be working up courage. "Come back, Jim?"

The pain in Jim's chest exploded now. He surged upward, up through the house and out into the sky. Flying didn't feel the same when the leaden weight of his heart struggled to pull him downward; inexorably towards the Earth he could no longer bear.

Above Jim, the winter kingdom loomed. No longer was it beautiful as he had once seen it but now it seemed a prison all that much more. His feet hit the clouds and he stumbled under weight of his heart. Hands caught him, on his shoulders and on his arms. All around him the gypsies stood their eyes sad and solemn, mouths moving in quiet reassurances. He sneered at them, wrenching away from their grasp—grasps that had never known warmth.

"Nymph," the even tone of Father Winter broke through and the crowd parted around him. Pike looked as stern as always. Jim found no comfort in his calculating gaze. How could he have ever? "I told you that you should not have gone to their world." Jim glared at Father Winter with all his worth, his pain and hoped that his broken heart was laid bare for all to see. Without another word he marched off, past Pike and the gypsies and deep into the Winter Kingdom. Pike watched him go with a scowl, and unbeknownst to Jim, a second pair of eyes joined Father Winter. "He is every bit your son, Winona," Pike accused the Snow Queen who's pale face broke into a small, mischievous smile, immediately recognizable from Jim's identical smirk.

"I can say the same to you, Christopher," Winona replied calmly and handed him the small, glimmering jewel. With one last mischievous look, the Snow Queen pressed a chaste kiss to Father Winter's cheek and vanished from sight. The winter gypsies stared in open amazement as their leader's cheeks turned brilliant cobalt and he glared at them and began barking orders as if nothing had ever happened.

Things in the Winter Kingdom did return to a semblance of normal after that day. Winter gypsies worked as hard as always and Jim returned to Earth but stringently avoided most of the North American continent, primarily moping around Europe, making things colder than ever.

Jim's every thought, as he drifted amongst the humans, was of all the things he would never be able to do with Leonard. Never would he ever be able to see a movie or laugh with him or hug him. Every one of these thoughts made him heavier and heavier, filling him up until there was nothing else in him. Winter conditions grew colder and colder until finally, on New Years eve, Father Winter could no longer bear it.

"I have had enough of this," he said as he caught Jim just about to dive off the eastern edge of the Winter Kingdom. Jim turned, blue eyes startling bright.

"I don't want to hear it," Jim hissed, hands pressing into his chest. He could not contain the emotion inside him, burning through him unlike any other. It only served to melt what remained of his heart, spread all the pieces all the way to his fingers and toes and make _everything_ hurt. "You were right, what more do you want?"

Pike's head dipped. "I'm afraid not," he said in a voice that Jim had never heard before. Uncertainty ebbed back the anger, it had to be anger, as he took in Father Winter. The older man looked almost sheepish. "I apologize. I did not realize what it really took to be human." Pike walked up to Jim, his hand falling heavy on Jim's shoulder. "Perhaps it is more to be human, more than a house or a bag of gold."

Jim felt something burst in him again, but this time the sensation of it was different. There was warmth, like the anger, but so much gentler and so much more exhilarating. He was sure, almost, that he must be glowing with it. "What does that mean?" he breathed, he could still feel the heart he'd had as a human fluttering in his chest.

"It means that you get to go back," Pike announced, and then, almost affectionately, "Jim."

Relief flooded through Jim, extinguishing the painful fire that consumed his heart even as uncertainly still rose in his throat. "What about Winter?" he barely managed around his tight throat and the water prickling in his eyes. "Who will...?

Pike sighed, almost as if exasperated even as a smile pulled at his lips. "Well, son," he added the endearment almost as if it were some sort of clarification, "your mother has taken care of that for us. Perhaps I will get someone who will listen to me." He held out his fist as he spoke, opening it to Jim. A brilliant jewel sat in his palm, glittering in the bright sun almost blindingly. Looking at it too long hurt Jim's eyes and tears finally did fall from his eyes, forming into heavy beads of ice on his cheeks. "Now go, you've got somebody waiting for you." Father Winter's expression was compassionate and reached up, tapping Jim's nose in a manner so familiar that Jim's eyes widened in shock. He didn't get time to ask, even though Pike's smile was answer enough, before his cheeks burned icy and he was falling back to Earth again.

&amp;

The second time Jim fell from the Winter Kingdom, the descent was much slower. He was falling not into the unknown anymore but into his home. Neither did he hit anything on the way down but instead landed in a massive pile of shoveled snow that was sitting outside the McCoy house. Leonard's shocked yell was even audible through the thick snow Jim was under. He surged up and out, flinging snow everywhere and grinned for all he was worth. Joanna and Bones stared at him, each with a shovel in hand, both in utter disbelief.

Joanna was the first to snap out of the shock, dropping her shovel and turning to her father. "I told you that he fell from the sky," she said in a sing-song voice. Leonard was in motion then, climbing over the snow to get at Jim.

Jim opened his arms to accept the hug but was shocked, perhaps as much as Joanna and Bones had been, when there were hands not around his waist but on his cheeks and Leonard was suddenly pulling his face in. And they were kissing. Jim melted into it, arms wrapped around Bones' neck as he pressed close. Joanna's gagging noises barely registered until she was pushing between them. "Gross, gross!" she crowed as they broke apart. Jim retaliated by dumping a handful of snow on her auburn head. She ran off and onto the porch, protesting the whole way.

Leonard and Jim watched her until she disappeared into the house before Bones turned to Jim, a wry smile tugging at his lips as he fought against it. "Not Jack Frost, huh?"

"No," Jim said with a lighthearted sigh. "Just Jim."   



End file.
